''Fat good that does, Nelly. The horse is in and the barn's burned down.''
''Sorry, Kris,'' Nelly repeated but she didn't sound at all contrite. One more thing Kris needed to talk to Auntie Tru about fixing. Assuming even Tru could fix Nelly now.
''When was the last time you ate?'' Jack asked, taking a chair at the foot of Kris's bed.
''Year or two ago,'' Kris guessed. ''None of your business.''
''Well, based upon early returns, your physical well-being just might become my business again, despite your refusing to vote for your dad.''
''Maybe the party will choose a different Prime Minister?''
''In case you haven't noticed, the Longknife name has developed a new and rather special cachet. Not that you had anything to do with it.''
Kris shook her head. ''Hardly.''
Jack shot her a frown. ''Listen, seeing how I'm likely to be responsible for that body of yours again, and seeing how it's melting away to nothing, it seems to me that you ought to eat something. Now, you can walk out of here like a lady, or I can toss you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carry you out. What's it gonna be?''
''All the way downstairs to the kitchen?'' Kris said, measuring those strong arms and wondering how it would feel to be held by them for a few moments, even if it was only… But he was threatening to toss her over his shoulder, not carry her off in his arms. Nothing dignified or fun there. She rolled that image up, shut it away in a small lockbox she had for such … very small lockbox … and sat up in bed.
''Actually, I was thinking of a certain dive. A place where working folks like you and me might get a bite to eat and a drop to drink. Nothing private or special.''
''Should I change?''
''Sailors eat free.''
''Officers?''
''Well, they may have to pay. Don't know. Come on, let's go before all the greasy spoons are taken.''
Kris let herself be cajoled out of her room and into Jack's car. He wasn't kidding when he said the place was a dive. The Smuggler's Roost was on the rougher side of town, near the old shuttle port and close to the space elevator's industrial loading station. Jack parked across from it. An unsightly thing, it filled the basement of an ancient brick building. The steps down were broken and uneven. The wooden floor was dark and worn by several hundred years of workers' boots. The walls were hung with glowing signs offering several kinds of beer on tap. Their light only highlighted where raw bricks showed through chipped plaster. Kris had been in college pubs that attempted this ambiance. There was no attempt here; it was pure original.
As she took in the empty tables, she spotted several up front occupied by huddled men and women in hard working clothes. It was the booth in the back that told her she'd been had.
She whirled to leave and ran right into Jack. ''You can't go now.''
''Watch me.'' But he had his hand on her arm, and it was amazingly strong, and he was turning her around. She half walked, half was pushed across the floor.
''Hi, Kris,'' King Ray said.
''Howdy, Lieutenant,'' Great-grampa Trouble put in. He was in dress greens today, probably attending funerals for Grampa Ray.
''Good to see you,'' Sandy said.
''Hello,'' Kris answered, voice flat.
''It that bad?'' Ray said.
''Seems that way,'' Jack said, urging Kris into the booth beside her Great-grampa Trouble, then pulling up a chair for himself to blockade her from making a hasty exit. The king wore a flannel shirt and slacks. Sandy was in cut-offs for her leg cast. A tank top left room for her arm cast. They fit right in.
''You doing the round of funerals?'' Trouble asked.
''Tom today. The same priest that did his wedding last week did his funeral today.''
Both men shook their heads and took a long pull on their beers. ''Bloody shame, that,'' Trouble said.
''Beautiful funeral,'' Jack said.
''There's no such thing as a beautiful funeral for a twenty-three-year-old man,'' Ray said softly.
''No, sir,'' Kris agreed.
''You drinking what the rest of these decrepit wrecks are, Navy?'' an old man in a checked shirt and jeans, gray ponytail half down to his thick black leather belt asked.
''Soda,'' Kris said.
He raised an eyebrow but wrote Kris's order and Jack's beer and left.
''Honey, I still think it was all the pills your mother was stuffing you full of,'' Trouble said.
''And not the brandy I was sneaking out of Father's liquor cabinet or the wine from Mother's supply. Sorry, Grampa, but I won't wake up a week from now and find out I drank my way past how many funerals?'' she eyed Jack.
''A lot,'' he said.
''Chandra Singh's husband called me today, asked me if they'd found her body. The Sikhs are very particular about their funerals. I told him we were still hunting for the wreckage of the 105 boat. We'll keep hunting.'' Kris shook her head. ''I have no idea what's going on up there in orbit. They pried us out of the 109 and shot us off to the hospital.'' Unconsciously, her hand went to the flaking bandage over her right eye. ''I don't know what's going on up there.''
''You're Squadron 8's Commodore; you should check in. Ask,'' Sandy said.
''No I'm not. Mandanti's the Commodore.''
''By right of blood, by right of title, by right of name, I'm taking command,'' Jack intoned. ''I was there.''
''Yeah, when I stole his command.''
''Looked more like you asked and he passed you the baton,'' Sandy said, ''with my hearty support.''
Kris blinked. ''I didn't give you much choice.''
''That mess we were in didn't give anyone much choice,'' Ray growled at his beer. ''I was so busy trying to be evenhanded with this dumb troglodyte who'd just ousted my grandson that I ended up bending over and kissing my own ass.''
He shook his head ruefully. ''Your brother, Honovi, dropped by yesterday, had a long talk with me. We'll have to change the way Wardhaven handles temporary governments. With a smart boy like that in the family, maybe there is hope for us.''
The king took a long pull on his beer, then fixed Kris with a firm eye. ''Kris, when people like me screw up, dumping hot potatoes on people like you, battles like you ended up fighting, we got two choices. We can eat our heart, day by day, bite by bite. Or we can accept that what we did was what looked like a good idea at that moment. Was what had to be done just then. In the case of me and your old man, we just about blew the whole ball game for Wardhaven.
''But you saved our necks. You rallied some damn fine people to step up to a near-impossible job. The best dropped what they were doing and came running.'' He paused, seemed to lose himself gazing off past Kris's head. ''Why is it always the best we lose?''
Trouble cleared his throat. Ray blinked twice and went on. ''You and they did what had to be done. Some of you survived, despite the odds. Some didn't. There's nothing right or fair about it. Your Tommy had more choice, I hear, than most. He chose for his wife to live.''
Grampa Ray shifted in his seat. ''Now you're sitting where all of us have sat. Stuck among the survivors. For now. Tomorrow, there will be another dustup somewhere. There's always another crisis somewhere. So you can crawl into a corner, eat your heart out and die, or order something to eat and stay with the rest of us living.''
''Such encouraging words from your very own greatgrandfather,'' Sandy said. ''How can you but choose to go on?''
Trouble slapped Kris on the back. ''What do you want to eat?''
Kris ordered a hamburger when the drinks arrived. The barkeep left the drinks and a vid controller. ''Thought the likes of you might want to know what's going on out there.''
''I was kind of hoping to ignore it,'' Ray said as he hit the selector switch and the beer ad switched to news.
''So, with the critical information I passed along to the Wardhaven Flagship, plus my own right-on analysis of the threat against us,'' Adorable Dora was saying to the camera, ''our forces launched their assault on these unidentified attackers.''